Saving Ruby: Miss Fortune World: Sinful Past, #3

By Shari Hearn

April, 1970 - Marge, Ida Belle and Gertie have a mystery on their hands when Oliver Blevins, left for dead, crawls from the bayou and ends up in their new backyard with a feverish warning: "They want Ruby."

Slipping into a coma, Oliver leaves them with more questions than answers:

Who are the men who tried to kill him?

And why would they want to kidnap Ruby Babin, the mayor's wife?

And how can the original Swamp Team 3 save Ruby when she doesn't believe she needs to be saved?

 

Saving Ruby is book 3 in the Sinful Past series of stories featuring Ida Belle, Gertie and Marge in their younger years. Join the original Swamp Team 3 as they raise hell, solve mysteries and keep the town of Sinful, Louisiana from going to pot. Oh, and maybe have a romance or two along the way. These stories take place from the 60s on up and can be read in any order.

 

A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR: Saving Ruby is a novella in the Miss Fortune World, wherein Jana DeLeon has allowed writers to create stories using the world of Sinful and the wacky characters it's famous for. I wish to thank Ms. DeLeon for graciously allowing other writers to explore their own writing in a most Sinful way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J&R Fan Fiction
• Release date: Jun 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393545446

Book preview

Acknowledgements

MANY THANKS TO JANA DeLeon, first for writing such amazing characters and creating the town of Sinful, and second, for allowing other writers to write our own stories set in the world of Miss Fortune.

Thank you to Carla and Kathleen for your wonderful notes.

Cover design by Susan Coils at coverkicks.com

Introduction

SINFUL PAST IS A SERIES written by Shari Hearn set in the world of Jana DeLeon’s Miss Fortune, featuring young Ida Belle, Gertie and Marge throughout the decades. Future stories will feature the ladies as they return home to Sinful from Vietnam and find themselves involved in mystery, intrigue and a romance or two along the way.

Chapter One

SINFUL, LOUISIANA - April, 1970

Gertie stood, suitcase in hand, peering out the window at her parents as they chatted outside with Marge’s mother, Acadia Boudreaux. Ida Belle and Marge cooled their heels nearby, suitcases and trunks containing their worldly possessions sitting on the walkway next to them.

As if sensing Gertie’s surveillance, Marge signaled her to come outside, tapping at the watch on her wrist.

Though Gertie was just as eager to start her new life in the huge Victorian Ida Belle had inherited from her Great Aunt Mabel, getting from here to there meant saying goodbye to her mother. And one thing Beatrice Hebert did not do well was letting her children go.

Coward.

Gertie turned to find her Granny Magoo walking into the kitchen from the living room. Standing just a hair under five-feet tall, the 78-year-old shook her head in pity. She was Beatrice’s mother. A Mageau by marriage, she seemed to resemble the cartoon character, Mr. Magoo, more and more with each passing year. Hence the nickname.

You bet I am. She’s going to have a sobbing fit, Gertie said.

Granny Magoo nodded. She strode over and grabbed the doorknob. Your mama’s like a sticky bandage. Better to rip it off and be done with it. She opened the door, pulled Gertie toward it, and shoved her outside. 

It’s about time, Ida Belle called over to her.

Yeah, so we’d better hit the road, Gertie said quickly. Bye, Daddy. Bye, Mama.

Her mother’s face contorted in pain as Gertie hurried across the back porch, racing down the steps and across the yard to the driveway where everyone stood waiting for her.

Now, Mama, you said you wouldn’t make a scene.

I can’t believe my little girl is leaving me again. Beatrice Hebert held a hand up to her mouth. First elementary school, then Vietnam, now this. My youngest. My baby. Leaving me for good.

Gertie set her suitcase on the pavement. Mama, you’ll do fine. Now, I’m just going to take a few minutes to go load up Granny Magoo’s car and—

Her father swooped in and grabbed her suitcase. I’ll start loading up. You stay here with your mama.

Her daddy was as big a coward as she was. He tucked the suitcase under his arm, then grabbed Ida Belle’s and Marge’s suitcases and hurried over to the garage.

Beatrice Hebert’s lips trembled. The dam burst from her eyes as she reached out and pulled Gertie into a tight hug. The woman who had trouble opening new pickle jars had suddenly gained Goliath-like upper body strength.

Oh, for criminy sakes, she’s just moving to the other side of Sinful, Granny Magoo said.

Gertie turned her head as much as she could, given her mother’s grip, and spotted her grandmother shuffling toward them.

You didn’t see me carrying on like that when my youngest left the nest.

Beatrice released Gertie and turned toward her own mother, scowling. This is different, and you know it. Three of your five children remained in Sinful. My Rebecca and Stephen have both moved away to other states. Gertie is not only my youngest, but she is the last one left here. How do I know she won’t tire of Sinful and decide to go teach in New Orleans? Or California? She burst into tears again. Why? she asked, reaching over and squeezing Gertie’s cheeks. Why do all of my children leave me?

Gertie squirmed free of her mother’s hands and rubbed her cheeks. Maybe because you have a tendency to be a bit clingy?

The tears miraculously stopped as Beatrice folded her arms and glared at her daughter. Do you know what a rhetorical question is? I know you do because you are a future English teacher. But I will refresh your memory. It’s one you’re not supposed to take seriously and answer.

I just meant you’re overreacting, that’s all.

Beatrice turned toward Marge’s mom, who gazed upon them with a look of pity. Back me up on this, Acadia. Tell my daughter how hard it is when your children become adults and move on.

Are you kidding? Acadia asked. I’ll now be able to watch television in peace. Every time a commercial comes on for dish soap, my women’s liberationist daughter has to make a federal case out of it.

Well, they’re terrible, Marge said. They make women look like they’re in love with cleaning.

See what I mean? Acadia asked. But the best part is that Marge has agreed to take over Sinful Photo starting next week. Her daddy and I will finally be free to take long vacations. Instead of developing everyone else’s vacation photos, I will be taking some of my own. So you should look to the positive side of all this.

I guess, Beatrice said. She pulled her reddened eyes back to Gertie. Promise me I can visit.

Of course you can visit, Mama, Gertie said.

Whenever I want?

Gertie felt a shiver along her spine. Where’s daddy with Granny Magoo’s car?

You didn’t tell her about the car? Granny Magoo asked Beatrice.

I was too busy being sad.

Tell me what? Gertie asked.

Beatrice smiled. Well, we wanted it to be a surprise. Your daddy and I got you a car.

A surge of excitement rippled through her. You bought me a car?

Well, not actually. More like made you one.

Gertie heard an engine come to life in the garage. She watched as a car with the most massive 50s era fins began backing out. The fins and trunk were green. The back passenger door was pink. The top of the car was blue, matching the front passenger door. The front of the car was the green that matched the massive fins.

Gertie gasped. She cast a glance at Ida Belle, whose jaw hung open. Marge held a hand to her mouth. Neither friend blinked. Acadia’s eyes grew large. She shoved a Manila folder at Marge that she had been holding onto.

I should run. Here’s the information about a wedding Sinful Photo has been hired to shoot this Saturday. I’ll cover the rehearsal lunch, but we’ll both photograph the ceremony and reception. She cast a glance at Gertie. Enjoy your new car.

She rushed through the yard to the street, where her small Renault waited for her.

I bet you’re wondering what kind of a car we concocted, Mama said, as Acadia peeled away from the curb.

Gertie could not take her eyes off the monstrosity before her. Uh-huh.

Well, it’s a little bit of everything, I’d say. You know your Uncle Robbie owns the salvage yard between here and Mudbug. Well, I told him I would love to give you that old Chevrolet Bel Air we had sitting in the garage. Remember that car? I used to drive you to school in the Bel Air.

Gertie nodded her head. She was fifteen at the time and the ‘57 Bel Air was a beauty, until it was damaged in Hurricane Betsy in 1965. Although it was a total loss, her mother could not bear to part with it. Even after getting a new car, she’d kept that Bel Air under a tarp in the garage.

Well, it turns out Robbie’s always wanted to make a custom car. So he thought he would give it a go and put one together with all the parts he has in his yard. Aren’t those tailfins something? You used to love big tailfins when you were a little girl.

The operative phrase being used to love, Gertie thought. And there was nothing to love about the Frankencar her father had now fully driven out of the garage. He killed the engine and got out, joining Beatrice.

Was she surprised? he asked his wife.

I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything. Well, honey, don’t you just love it?

Gertie tossed a helpless look at Granny Magoo, who hung her head.

Ida Belle cleared her throat. I think she’s speechless. It’s certainly something, Mrs. Hebert.

You girls notice the pink door?

Is she kidding? thought Gertie. Kinda hard not to notice one pink door on a green and blue car.

There’s a matching one on the driver’s side. Those were from the old Bel Air. The great thing about this car is that a lot of it is made from salvaged cars that family members have sold to Robbie over the years. Her mama beamed as she pointed to the car’s features. Those fins are your Uncle Ned’s. The roof is Aunt Betty’s. One of the doors is my cousin Shelly’s. So when you’re driving it, you’re driving family history. She waited a moment for a response. Say something, honey.

It’s... certainly colorful.

Oh, Robbie intends on painting it all one color. He just ran out of time, seeing as you were in a hurry to move out. Her lips trembled. Nope, no more crying. She held her hand up for a few seconds. I’m fine. Anyway, Robbie said you can take it to his yard, and he will paint it any color you like. I know it doesn’t look like any car you have ever seen, but that makes it a unique car for a unique girl. Like the school clothes I used to make you. All the other mothers used the same patterns, but not me.

Isn’t that the truth, Gertie said, remembering the dresses her mother used to make her. Beatrice Hebert was a fantastic knitter, but her sense of fashion was in the toilet, which is why Gertie had made it her mission in life to be up to date and hip in all things. And this Frankenstein car was not it.

Reading Gertie’s face, her mama’s tears began to flow again. You hate it. I knew it was a dumb idea to mix and match. I just wanted you to remember me and the drives we used to take in that Bel Air.

I love it, Gertie blurted out.

No you don’t.

I do. I absolutely, positively love it.

I HATE IT, GERTIE said as they pulled away from her mother’s house in the jigsaw puzzle that was now her car. "Absolutely, positively hate it. Mama knew I had my eye on that Corvette in Mudbug. It was only two years old. Barely driven. Mama said it was too expensive. But the reality is, she wanted me to be just as frugal as she is.

She does not know where she ends, and I begin. Just last week she sewed us matching dusters. Dusters! What girl my age wears a duster? I got out of that house in the nick of time.

Ida Belle, seated across the bench seat from Gertie, scanned the interior of the car. Actually, the car won’t be so bad after it’s painted one color. Your Uncle Robbie did a good job on the inside. It has everything.

Fins. It has fins. I am a hip, happening woman of the seventies. And a hip woman of the seventies does not ride around with massive 1950s fins. She drives around in a sporty Corvette.

I kinda like this car, Ida Belle said.

You want to buy it from me?

Hell no.

So you were lying just now.

Hell yes. I was being polite. Besides, the attorney said my Great-Aunt Mabel left behind a car in her garage.